


Profile of a Pilot on Fire

by LopOfTheWoods



Category: Portrait de la jeune fille en feu | Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019), 機動戦士ガンダム 鉄血のオルフェンズ | Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans
Genre: F/F, Mecha, Psychology, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LopOfTheWoods/pseuds/LopOfTheWoods
Summary: The eldest daughter of an esteemed techbaron, Héloïse, is recalled from her seclusion in the netsphere to take her younger sister's place after she dies in a mecha training accident. Marianne is a talented psychologist who is summoned by the techbaron to evaluate Héloïse's combat readiness, but she must do so without her knowledge...
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Profile of a Pilot on Fire

“Listen to the subject. Notice their gestures, their expressions. Word choice is very important as well. It reveals more than people realize,”

The students tapped away at their datapads. They occasionally glanced up, watching Marianne in the front of the lecture hall. The woman left the lectern, gesturing at the projection screen against the wall.

“The human mind is complex, and with augmentations infinitely more so,” She paused, gazing up at the case files that floated in the air. “But the fundamentals of psychology remain the same. We all have needs and wants, as well as fears,” Marianne narrowed her eyes as she caught sight of one of the case files. It floated among the others, its graphs and notations shimmering in the holographic light. She turned to the class and pointed at it. “Who opened this one?”

The students looked up, their expressions confused. “Doctor?” One of them said.

Marianne surveyed the young people before her. She continued to point at the case file. “I asked who opened this one?”

One of the students slowly raised her hand. “I did doctor…should I have not? It was in the prep databank…”

The woman slowly turned to the case file. Memories flooded back to her, as well as emotions and long forgotten conversations. “It’s fine,” She said, her voice subdued. The memories and emotions continued. She could not longer stop them.

“It’s fine…”

The entry ship shuddered, lights blinking across the various consoles. Marianne closed her eyes as she gripped the restraints crisscrossing her chest. She opened them, glancing at the other occupants of the cockpit. There were four other men. Two of them were at the flight controls, while the other two monitored the reentry computers. The ship shuddered again, then an alarm sounded.

“Strato-waves!” One of the men yelled. He leaned in towards his computer, gripping the sides. “Three o’ clock! Coming in fast!”

The waves hit, knocking the entry ship and sending them spiraling. The alarms blared, lights flashing all around the cockpit. The terrible sound of ripping metal echoed through the ship. Marianne glanced through the door to the cockpit.

A hole had appeared in the storage compartment. Oxygen was violently sucked through, taking with it a variety of crates and containers. Marianne watched as the metal box holding her personal effects broke free of its tethers. It tumbled around the storage compartment before being drawn out through the hole. Marianne blinked, then grit her teeth.

She unbuckled her restraints. The escaping air pulled her from her seat. Marianne slid into the storage compartment, her hands and feet desperately searching for something to grab onto. She struck a metal support beam, knocking the wind from her chest. Marianne grabbed it, then looked around.

Objects continued to fly out of the hole, some whipping dangerously close to her head. She spotted what she was looking for, a miniature mobile frame. Marianne steadied herself, then pushed off from the support beam. Her fingers flailed as she tumbled towards the mobile frame. By some stroke of luck she managed to grab a loose tether. The woman grabbed it, then wrapped it with quick rotations around her arm.

Marianne pulled herself up, searching for handholds on the mobile frame. She found the hatch release and pressed it. The door swung open, narrowly missing her. With a glance at the hole in the storage compartment, Marianne pulled herself into the mobile frame. It took all her strength the pull the hatch close again.

The controls on the mobile frame hummed to life. The woman wasn’t an expert pilot by any measure, but she had done her requisite two-hundred hours like everyone else. She flipped switches and tuned dials as the monitors calibrated. A voice crackled over her radio.

“Doctor! What are you doing!”

Marianne took a deep breath, then pushed the steering levers forward. The mobile frame groaned. A moment later it tore free of its restraints.

The world spun around her as Marianne and the mobile frame fell through the hole in the storage compartment. Bright light flashed across her viewport and screens, forcing the woman to shield herself with an arm. She lowered it, blinking. The mobile frame continued to spin. Marianne’s hands found the steering levers again and gripped them. An alarm beeped. She hit the stabilizers and the mobile frame’s boosters roared to life.

It felt like Marianne’s skull would rattle out of her head as she tried to right herself. It took some maneuvering, but she finally managed to get the mobile frame upright in the air. She gazed at the viewport. The planet spread out before her; greens, purples and blues that sparkled in the sunlight on the horizon. Marianne savored the beauty.

She turned her attention to the monitors. Quickly highlighting the surrounding debris, Marianne found the container with her effects. It was in freefall below her, rapidly tearing through the clouds. She aimed the mobile frame towards it, locking on with a flip of a switch. A moment later the boosters flared and she shot down towards it.

The cockpit shook, the metal around her growing hot. Marianne bit her lip, forcing herself to concentrate on the falling container. She inched closer and closer. Alarms rang out as warnings flashed on the monitors. The metal grew hotter and hotter. The shaking increased. The leg of the mobile frame tore away, and then one of the arms.

Marianne let out a cry as she neared the falling container. She reached out with the remaining arm. She grasped, missing. The mobile frame rotated once, forcing her to stabilize again. She narrowed her eyes. Gripping the steering levers, Marianne tried again. The fingers closed around the container. The woman exhaled, grinning as she brought it close to the mobile frame’s body. She looked up as another section of the frame tore away, exposing her to the colors of the sky and the clouds. In the distance Marianne could see the entry ship rapidly closing in on her.

Twenty minutes later, the entry ship was on the ground. Marianne stood in a daze as she clung her luggage to her body. Her flight suit was torn, and the container with her things was damaged. The pilots walked around, checking parts of the ship. All around them were jagged rocks with the occasional tree and shrubbery. Marianne turned to the pilots.

“Where do I go?”

One of them paused, straightening up. Without a word he pointed in the distance. Marianne followed his finger. She noticed a narrow path snaking among the outcroppings. Adjusting her grip on her luggage, the woman started forward.

It was hard going. The path was clearly rarely used, and the footing was treacherous. The ground rose higher and higher. Marianne emerged at the top of a series of cliffs. She did a slow circle. The rock outcroppings stretched out before her, their surfaces a bright orange cast by the setting sun. Marianne continued turning. In the distance was a large manor. It rose up like a fortress, its windows reflecting the sunlight and blinding her. The woman set down her luggage and checked her wrist communicator. She wasn’t getting in service, indicating she was in a remote region. She picked the container back up again. The wind swept past her as she started towards the manor.

The estate was surrounded by a wall. The gate was open, leading through a well-kept garden to the front doors. Marianne paused at the bottom of the steps. Darkness rapidly spread across the sky as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. The woman approached the doors. Before she could knock, they swung open.

An animal-hybrid servant stood in the frame. She was younger, with a tail that poked out under the frill of her maid uniform and two long ears flattened by her cap. The servant stared at Marianne. “I’m Doctor Sepho,” The woman said. The servant nodded, then stepped to the side to let her in.

The interior of the manor was grand, with dark walls, gilded trim, paintings and flowers placed at intervals. Marianne gazed around as the servant walked briskly ahead of her. “This way,” The catgirl said. She was taken up a staircase to a large study. It was clearly unused, its bookshelves covered in tarp and the data consoles dark. The servant approached one of them and booted it up. The screen flickered to life. “This will be your room,”

Marianne nodded as she studied her surroundings. She set down her luggage, then turned to the servants. “How long have you been here?”

The girl avoided her gaze, instead staring at her shoes. “Three years,”

“And do you like it here?”

“I do,” The servant said. Her tail slowly moved behind her, as if unconsciously.

Marianne stared at her a few moments, then turned back to the room. “Thank you, this room will suffice,”

The servant bowed and quickly retreated. Marianne waited until the door closed behind her, then turned to her luggage. She knelt down, her hands finding the clasps and releasing them. The container opened with a hiss. Marianne stared at the contents. The datapad on top was damaged. She took it and gingerly placed it to the side. The datapad underneath it was damaged as well. Marianne closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.

She hooked up both instruments to the center console of the study and conducted a data recovery procedure. Deep blues and greens were cast about the room as the screens flickered. Marianne stripped off her torn flight suit. She stretched, popping her back, then fished in the pockets of the discarded suit for her smokesticks. She found them, taking out a stick and lighting it.

Marianne sat naked on the floor between the glowing screens of the datapads hooked up to the console. She took a long drag of the smokestick and closed her eyes. She exhaled, the smoke clouding the flickering machines behind her. 

Hunger suddenly gripped her. Marianne put out her smokestick and stood. She got dressed into a technician suit, then carefully made her way out of the study. The hallways were long and dark. The woman slid her hand along the wall, feeling her way to the staircase. At the bottom she found a kitchen.

Marianne opened one pantry, then another. In the third she found bread and cheese. She filled her arms with them and took the food over to a table. A screen flickered behind her, detailing news briefings with the audio muted. Marianne sat and began cutting bread and cheese. Like a ravenous animal she quickly stuffed them in her mouth.

Footsteps sounded. Marianne continued eating as the servant entered the kitchen. The catgirl stood there, her expression blank. “Forgive me,” Marianne said, speaking around her mouthful of food. “I was famished and helped myself,” The servant bowed her head, indicating it was alright. “Is there wine?”

The servant hastened to take a bottle from a nearby cupboard. Marianne accepted it and poured herself a glass. She downed it, then closed her eyes and sighed. It was good to drink wine with dinner. The humming of the monitor behind her caused the woman to open her eyes. The servant still stood near the table, waiting. “May I be curious?” Marianne said, leaning forward. The catgirl blinked, clearly surprised. After a moment she went over to the table and sat. “What is your name?”

“Sophie,”

Marianne slowly nodded. “That’s a lovely name, Sophie. Do you like your mistress?”

“I do not know,” The servant said, glancing down at her lap.

“You’ve been here three years,” Marianne said, taking another bite of bread.

Sophie nodded, still gazing down at her lap. “The mistress has only just been brought here by her father the baron. She was secluded in the netsphere before that…”

Marianne chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. She poured herself another glass of wine. “There was another daughter of the baron, yes?” Sophie nodded. The woman tilted her head, studying the servant’s features. “What happened to her?”

Sophie didn’t answer for a moment. The monitor continued to hum behind them, casting the room in shifting light. “She died,” The catgirl said, breaking the silence.

“I see,” Marianne said. She slowly leaned back in her chair.

Sophie looked up at her, finally meeting her gaze. “Can you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Evaluate the mistress. She has already driven away one psychologist,”

Marianne furrowed her brow. “She has?”

“Yes,” Sophie said, slowly nodding. “You must clear the mistress for combat, but you must do it without her knowledge,”

The room fell into silence again. The news stories on the monitor changed, bringing with it a host of new colors that splayed about the room. Marianne blinked, dwelling on Sophie’s words. She glanced at her wine glass, then emptied the contents into her mouth. 


End file.
